#simply hells fuckin bells

[thoseoldmonsters]

aint no way ghost isnt partially phoebe bridgers inspired like you cannot convince me. hes so fucking punisher coded

i just came to this realization and its so over for me

like hello??? the cover art alone????

like there are so many examples and i lowkey might just word vomit and lyric analysis abt it in a doc but here are a few examples :)

Sick of the questions I keep asking you They make you live in the past But I can count on you to tell me the truth When you've been drinking and you're wearing a mask -- Halloween

When you saw the dead little bird, you started cryin' But you know the killer doesn't understand -- Moon Song

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised I'm a bad liar With a savior complex All the skeletons you hide Show me yours, and I'll show you mine -- Savior Complex

I've been playing dead My whole life And I get this feeling Whenever I feel good It'll be the last time -- ICU

I'll find a new place to be from A haunted house with a picket fence To float around and ghost my friends -- I Know The End

okay most of the lyrics dont exactly fit but conceptually its dead on like im a lyric nerd so itd take me actually explaining shit to see but like yall. simply i cant even

hes so pharbz coded what the fuck

[luimnigh]

I love the idea of the "Disney Princess", simply because the public's idea of a Disney Princess and Disney's idea of a Disney Princess don't actually match up.

Because to the public, a Disney Princess is a type of character in Disney movies. And to Disney, "Disney Princess" is a specific brand with specific characters.

The Disney Princess brand was set up in 2001 after the head of Disney Consumer Products went to a Disney on Ice show, saw hundreds of little girls in generic princess halloween costumes, and went "Wait, why the hell don't we sell Princess dresses?"

Rather than trying to give a dozen movies, many over a decade old, their own individual marketing pushes, they come up with the overarching Disney Princess brand, and launched it featuring ten initial characters:

Snow White, Aurora (Sleeping Beauty), Cinderella, Ariel, Belle, Jasmine, Pocahontas, Mulan, Esmerelda, and Tinkerbell.

Esmerelda was soon dropped, probably because Hunchback is a pretty dark Disney movie; and later so was Tinkerbell because they'd started production on her own line of straight-to-DVD movies, leaving the line with eight Princesses.

And now here's the clever part of the branding: when they release a new movie with a new Princess, they don't immediately fold her into the Disney Princess brand. That would cannibalise sales from the movie-specific merchandise. So they wait a year or two for merchandise sales to slow down, before having an official coronation ceremony to add the new Princess to the group.

(And presumably they cab recycle unsold merch under the Disney Princess brand.)

So Tiana got added in 2010, Rapunzel in 2012, Merida became the first Pixar entry in 2013, Moana took three years to be inducted in 2019, and the most recent is Raya in 2022.

So that's the official Disney Princess lineup: Snow White, Aurora (Sleeping Beauty), Cinderella, Ariel, Belle, Jasmine, Pocahontas, Mulan, Tiana, Rapunzel, Merida, Moana and Raya.

Now I know what you're thinking: there's a pair of very famous names missing there.

And like I said before: they wait for the merchandise sales to slow down before bringing new characters under the umbrella. Moana seems to have been quite popular, taking three years for Disney marketing to feel comfortable folding her into the brand.

But Frozen still sells like fuckin' hotcakes, even a decade later.

So we have a funny scenario where the two most popular Disney Princesses aren't actually Official Disney Princesses because they're too popular.

[ebodebo]

Nuts And Bolts

—mechanic!ghost with psychologist!reader…MDNI

Stepping out of your office and onto the town's bustling streets, you admire the Christmas decorations the city has set up. But, it does nothing to settle your soured mood.

Simon and you had gotten into an argument the previous night, and you haven’t heard or seen him since. You assumed he went to his car garage to let off some steam, but, as his wife, why the hell were you left to wonder about your husband’s whereabouts?

To set the scene, it had been an ordinary night. You had gotten off work before Simon, so you thought you would prepare a nice dinner with a glass of red wine.

Simon swings open the door as you season some vegetables, dawning an unpleasant expression. You turned to face him, raising a brow.

“What’s the matter?” You ask, setting your tongs down to walk over to him. He simply shakes his head and heads straight for your shared bedroom.

You tilt your head and head straight towards the bedroom after him, unable to let him writhe in his agony alone.

“Simon.” You stand in the doorway, observing him as he sits on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t so much as spare you a glance, making you worry.

You make your way to him and sit on the edge of the bed next to him. “You want to talk about what you’re feeling?” You insist, making him finally look at you.

“Stop it.” He firmly states. Your eyes widen at his tone.

“What?” You ask, keeping your tone soft to avoid antagonizing him.

“You’re tryin’ to do that shit again.” He scowls, standing up to walk back through the bedroom door. You quickly follow suit as he continues.

“Trynna’ pick my brain.” He walks over to the liquor cabinet and grabs a bottle of whiskey.

“Like I’m a fuckin’ patient.”

“No. I—” You intently pause, thinking. “Okay, you seem upset, stressed even.” You watch him grab a glass and pour some whiskey into it.

“Alcohol isn’t a good way to cope.” You say, adopting your signature calm voice you use on your patients.

He laughs dryly, even though the burning amber liquid coated his throat.

“And, there you go again.” He sighed, looking up at you.

“I’m trying to help you, Simon.” You insist, reaching out to gently grab his forearm, though he quickly retracts from your touch.

He lets out another dry chuckle before setting down his glass and walking to the coat rack to grab his coat. You attempt to question his whereabouts, but he fills in the space first.

“I don’t need a shrink. I need my wife.”

And, with that, he left. Leaving you to stare helplessly at the front door, not knowing where you went wrong and not knowing where to go from there.

You recounted yesterday’s events in your mind all day today, even during patient sessions. You always left your personal matters at the door, but this was different because you were genuinely dumbfounded.

Even walking out of work, you still thought about the whole ordeal. However, your thoughts were absolved when you saw the familiar mechanic shop sign out of the corner of your eye. They would be closed about now, but, knowing Simon, he would still be there.

You walk into the garage part to see a body under a truck, working on it. You delicately press the little bell, you insisted he get, on the desk closest to the doors.

“We’re closed.” God, it had only been a day, but you missed his voice.

“Even for me?” You question, feeling a little shy. He paused his movements before scooting himself out from under the truck. Your eyes shamelessly glazed over his body, looking at what he was wearing: an old white shirt covered in grease and gray sweatpants with oil marks.

“No, not for you.” He stated, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he grabbed an old rag to wipe his hands clean.

You gave him a half-smile. “Been working overtime, I see?” You try to keep your tone playful, but judging by how he slightly frowns, you can tell your voice has defiled you.

“We should talk.” He stated, with almost a cringe on his face. You nod and sit on a chair adjacent to him as he leans on the hood of the truck he was working on.

“I’m sorry.” He sighs out, clearly disappointed in himself. “Was havin’ a shitty day and brought it onto you.” You look up at him and give him a frown.

“I’m sorry, too.” He snaps his eyes to yours, a puzzled expression taking over his face.

“For what?” You gently tug on your bottom lip before answering.

“For treating you like a patient and not my husband. It’s not fair to you.” You sigh, avoiding his gaze.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He lightly demands. You bring your head up and bring your eyes to lock with his.

“This isn’t your fault. I was bein’ a dick.” He walks over to you and reaches for your hand, which you grasp. He guides you from the chair so you’re standing before him, looking up at him.

“Are you gonna come home?” You softly question as he stares into your eyes, mentally kicking himself for making them look so sullen.

“Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.” He says, bringing his hand up to sweep a stray piece of your hair away from your face, leaning down to kiss your lips sweetly. You could feel your skin sizzle from only a slight touch, internally sighing as he pulled away to speak.

“Should get goin’ then.” He says, walking over to the truck's hood and gently slamming it shut. “Johnny’s gonna come check the exhaust.”

“When’s he coming?” You absentmindedly ask as you watch Simon slip off his white shirt, observing his toned body.

“Eh, half an hour.” He casually says, turning away from you to walk over to the cabinet to grab a clean white shirt.

“So, we’re alone?” You question, bringing your hands up to untie the front of your blouse.

“Uh, huh.” He agrees, still rummaging through the cabinets, back towards you. You hum a sign of approval as you open your blouse, then move to unclip your bra, your breasts spilling out as soon as you do.

He finally finds a clean shirt and turns toward you, eyes widening as he sees you, chest bare. Your pulse quickens as he stares, unsure of his thoughts. When he doesn’t speak for a moment, you start to lose the confidence you had garnered.

“Is it too much?” You shyly ask, starting to feel insecure. He can’t speak; his mouth has gone dry at the sight of you. He drops the shirt in his hand and walks over to you, bringing his hand up to trace the curve of your breast.

“Fuck.” He manages to get out as your breathing becomes more ragged and your pupils dilate at the sensation.

“It’s never too much.” He answers your earlier question, cupping the bottom of your breast, making you sigh. You bring your hands up to grip his shoulders as he caresses your breast.

He leans to press a hot kiss onto your lips as he rolls your nipple between his pointer and thumb, making you moan into his mouth. He roughly grips the back of your thighs and picks you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he hauls you over to the hood of the truck.

He hikes up your skirt and hurriedly connects his lips back to yours before kissing down your neck, gently sucking on the tender skin, making you whine. He sinks to his knees in front of you, bringing one hand up to grab ahold of your calf, raising it slightly so he can slip the heel off your foot.

Once he gets one heel off, his other hand drifts to your other foot, slipping the heel off as he plants kisses up your ankle, and calf, stopping at your mid-thigh before nipping at the pantyhose encasing your cunt with his teeth, making a tiny hole. He slightly raises his hands and uses his pointers to split the pantyhose further.

“Hey! Those were Falke.” You urge, referring to the German-made, almost three-hundred dollar silk tights he had soiled.

“I’ll buy you more.” He amends, gripping the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, slipping them down simultaneously. His cock immediately shot up, so visibly hard. You brought your hands to gently pump him up and down as his hands went to massage your tender breasts.

He groans at the contact, gripping your breast a little firmer. You moan at that contact, pulling his cock a little firmer.

“You’re killin’ me, baby.” He chokes out, gripping the back of your neck as he roughly kisses your lips. With your hands still on his cock, you gently pull him closer by it, making him hiss as you guide it to your slit.

“I need you in me.” You whine as he brings his hand to twirl in your hair. In one swift motion, he thrusts into you. You both groan at the swift contact, even throwing your heads back.

His movements continue; over and over again, he thrusts into you, making you dig your nails into his skin, desperate for stability. You knew you wouldn't last long and could tell Simon wouldn't either. It has been only been a God-damned day, and you ached for him. Nothing but him would suffice your craving.

“So, fuckin’ good, baby. So, fuckin’ good.” He gruffly repeated, making you clamp around him tighter until you felt that familiar all-consuming euphoria you had so ached for.

As you reached your peak, Simon followed suit, coming with your name on the tip of his tongue. You were both panting, even after both of your orgasms subsided. You looked up at him as he tied your blouse back so your breasts were concealed, bra be damned.

“You did good.” You praised as he reached down to pick up your abandoned skirt from the floor.

“Yeah?” He lightly laughed out, finding humor in your statement.

“Yeah.” You nod as he grips your waist and pulls you off the hood of the car.

“Can you walk?” He questions, his hands still on your waist to help steady you as he carefully slips on your skirt.

“No. Might need you to carry me.” You sigh as you bring your hand up to fake an anguished expression.

“Uh, huh.” He rolls his eyes, though they contain no actual annoyance, as he goes to pick you up bridal style.

“Let’s get you home, Drama.”

a/n: this is the pipeline i’m here for

ur honor i’m just a girl

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: I'm feral for this man and this song + struggling w my writing format ( im new to this omg )

JADED | AARON PIERRE.

Toxic!Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader.

warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions of but not limited to; sexual content ( finger!ng), extreme language (cursing, use of n-word, use of b-word), talking you through it. lil bit of exhibitionism if you squint, mild daddy k!nk.

summary: in which you decide to end the toxic situation-ship you share with Terry— except this man only know how to suck you back in.

tell me that we locked in, locked in, look in my eyes.

tell me that you mine and we ain't just fuckin, ain't just vibin.

Why were you nervous? It wasn't like you'd never been in the very same GMC pickup before—oh you'd been in here plenty times, plenty times. Your eyes flickered to whatever they could, other than him.

The backseat.

The same backseat you'd been folded. flipped, and fucked out on. It was clean now, he'd definitely had some detailing done, the remnants of how he made you squirt only two weeks earlier had vanished, once etched into the seat itself.

And why were you sad about that?

You averted your eyes away from the backseat, firmly turning straight forward in the passenger seat, teeth nervously gnawing at the skin in your jaw. It was way too silent and tense in the truck. Way too silent. "Hi..” you sheepishly muttered, tucking a stray curl from your wash and go behind your ear, eyes darting around the parking lot of your apartment complex. The parking lot was the safest option for you, you knew how incredibly intoxicating Terry was, which meant the more space from your bedroom, the better.

Out of your peripheral, you could see Terry's face contorted into a twisted mix of confusion anger. His brows furrowed together, a mug presenting itself on his face. "What the fuck?" He spat. "Wassup?" He asked, his tone more accusatory than anything.

Where the fuck did he get off acting hurt and confused? That was supposed to be your stance in this whole thing, hurt and confused. And most of the time it was. But tonight, it was a nice change of pace, the hurt and confusion lingered on Terry instead—in which you could finally take on the nonchalant and curt demeanor. It felt so good too. So good to finally not be the one with the lump in their throat, eyes burning from blinking back tears. This felt, good.

"Nothin', just chillin," you simply responded, playing with the smartphone in your lap, acrylic nails tapping at the casing.

"Fuck you mean just chillin?" He asked his brows furrowed as he tried to catch your darting eyes. "You ain't been seein' me text you?"

"Yeah?" You responded slowly in a questioning tone, as you focused on the ASICS on your feet. "Been busy lately."

You seen Terry texts. Shit, the past couple of days he'd been the one blowing you up. It started the other night when he rung your bell and you didn't answer, you knew it was him, and he knew you were home. Lights still on and bright in the kitchen.

Private Ryan: Just rung the bell

Private Ryan: Come out.

Private Ryan: I'm sorry for the way I acted the other night. I ain't handle that situation like a man. Lemme make it up to u

It was so hard ignoring Terry, he made it hard. He didn't text or call often, he wasn't hardcore into his phone like the rest of the generation, maybe the marines played a part in that? Hell, he made sure to stay active in an effort not to get addicted to his cellular device—that's why when he texted it was a big deal.

But no way this nigga thought that you'd be at his every beck and call when he couldn't even solidify a title between the two of you? Casual sex and jealousy gets old—especially when it isn't under the terms of a relationship.

It was fun at first, linking up and sneaking off. Getting folded like a lawn chair when you least expected it, but there was something about Terry that brung the strings to a no-strings-attached situation. You started craving him, wanting him, and you made that very clear, but Terry made his intentions crystal clear from the beginning. How could you fault him for not wanting what you want? But how he could he also fault you for the change in your attitude?

"Busy?" He repeated the word like it disgusted him. His burning gaze tore through you, you could feel the heat radiating from his glare. Terry let out a heavy breath, gently tapping his fist against the staring wheel as he finally averted his gaze to the windshield. Thank Q!

But as he tore his gaze away from you, you centered yours on him. And why the fuck would you go and do that? Knowing how gorgeous he was, especially when he was pissed off? Clenching and unclenching his jaw. He had some nerve coming over here with a fresh cut. Everything so lined up and sexy—

"I came over here, a few days ago," he sternly spoke, the rough edge to his voice only setting off the throbbing in your pussy, "and you know that 'cause you was home, lights on and shit, I'm textin' you and you reading the shit in real time. What the fuck?" He repeated the three words once again. His voice growing rougher by the second.

"Two weeks ago, I'm fillin' you up and today you actin' cold as hell? Fuck is goin on?"

And why did he keep saying all the wrong shit? Filling you up was an understatement, he was stuffing you to the brim quite literally, to the point where he had bottomed out and was still tryna give you more. Filling you up, ha.

"I can't do this anymore, Terry," the words came out of your mouth abruptly, almost like you could trust yourself to say them. Terry sat there unwavering, he didn't speak, he didn't move. This only prompted you to continue. "It's too much, we both want...different things. And I'm tired of feeling like I'm overextending myself to you, being too available for you. I can't do...whatever this is anymore."

"Pea..”

"Don't do that," you firmly responded. The direct eye contact didn't seem to deter you this time. There he went. Playing those mind games. Calling you that nickname. Pea. A shorter version of the popular nickname your grandfather frequently referred to you as, sweet pea.

Terry kissed his teeth. Oh he thought he knew what was up. It'd became clear as a day. "You fuckin' somebody else." The words came out soft, quiet almost as if there had been a realization.

You let out a heavy sigh, your eyes rolling at the comment, " I'm not having sex with anyone, Terry." You spoke truthfully. As if you could. He made that hard enough, he stuffed you perfectly. He knew how to find that spot inside of you so easily, almost like he vacationed there in his spare time. He knew exactly what made your eyes roll back, what made that squeal in the back of your throat come barreling out, he knew your body too well to let anyone else come and have a gander.

"But I am dating," you said more quietly than you anticipated. Maybe it's because the recent dates haven't been anything to brag about. Not that your online dating profile and messages to your homegirl hadn't been highly specific, you've been attracting the same types. Baby daddies and men way too old to still be trying to just hook up. "And I know what I want, and it's not this...anymore. I wanna be able to climb in bed with a man and wake up beside him too, and not worry about him being hot or cold, or when I'll see him again," yuck. Why did you feel that damn lump in your throat again?

"I'm so tired of feeling disposable." You finalized. Flashing your watery eyes to the window adjacent to you. You weren't gonna cry in front of him. Shit, you weren't that tender. But all your feelings hitting you at once in this situation made you more emotional than you gambled for. You knew the nonchalant facade would only last so long on you. Terry was trained in that shit. He had a poker face like no other.

Terry didn't deter his gaze from you, his gorgeous eyes soft and lingering. "I don't try to make you feel disposable, Pea."

"Yeah, well, you don't have to try. You just do." You mumbled quietly. "That's why I don't wanna do this shit anymore."

Terry kept his eyes on you, reaching his large hand out to grasp your smaller one at a failed attempt at interlacing your fingers when you snatched away.

"Stop, Terry!" You frowned folding your arms. "I'm serious. No more calling, and texting, and popping up at my place."

He barely acknowledged you, kissing his teeth and leaning over the center console to rub his hand across your tummy, gripping your sides. "Why you actin' like that? Like you don't miss daddy?" He mumbled softly, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

This man didn't give up. Your restraint was at zero, and just like that you were putty.

You shook your head, arms still crossed as you let out a small whimper in which you claimed to be a protest. Eyes lowering at his wandering hands. "Hm, you don't miss daddy?" He asked in response, his hand sliding back over your tummy, fingers fondling with the button on your shorts.

This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, that was the whole point of the parking lot. Far away from a bed. But you should've known that you didn't need a bed with Terry.

And yet, just like a dumb bitch you shook your head once again. Playing into his sick little game.

He trailed his soft, teasing lips down your cheek until he reached your neck, leaving a searing trail behind on the skin there. You sucked your bottom lip in, a solid attempt at trying to keep whatever moans he was pulling out of you at bay. You couldn't betray yourself even more than you had already done. You came down here to end things, and instead you were about to get folded in half once again. The circle of life if you will.

"You don't miss me? So why you lettin' me take these off you right now?" He asked. Oh he was soo condescending. He tugged on the bottom of your shorts, and look at you, lifting up to help him earning a chuckle. You were so easy. "Nipples been hard ever since I touched you," he mumbled in between kisses to your neck, his hand busying itself up to your breast while your shorts slid down your legs, rubbing your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your tank top.

You suck in a sharp breath. Your body was on fire. You felt like you were on fire. Every kiss made you hotter, and the way he was touching you had your pussy fluttering. You had to be ovulating, this shit wasn't normal.

"That pussy so wet, I know it," he spoke, his voice lower, lips sucking on the thin flesh on the side of your neck, hand roughly parting your thighs earning another isolated whimper from you. His hand rubbing the inside of your thighs, leaving a lingering tingle behind. He was such a fucking tease sometimes.

He kissed his way back to your cheek, all the while his hands left soft slaps, and grips to your inner thigh. Your eyes fluttered closed at his constant teasing, breathing uneven as hell. You felt like you were swelling with need.

"Look at you, baby," he hummed against your ear, "you a horny fuckin' mess," he tsk'd in your ear, fingers dancing over to your pussy. Fingers lazing dancing over your slit through the thin fabric of your panties. A shaky breath slipped past your lips a soft drawn out moan following. Hell, the betrayal was already done.

"Niggas not treatin' my bitch right, huh?" He rhetorically asked referring to your dates, his own eyes focusing on the lazy dance his fingers were doing on your barely exposed pussy, until he quickly got bored and used those same fingers to move the fabric aside. "Can't be, otherwise you wouldn't be this fuckin' turned on right now." He answered his own questions, fingers immediately doing slow, hypnotizing circles on your clit.

"Fuhhh," you moaned out in response, arms immediately parting so that you could grip onto the sides of your seat for a sense of stability.

"Mhm," he hummed in response, "pussy wet just like I thought," he mumbled dragging his pointer and middle finger up and down your pussy a few times before slowly slipping the both of them in your heated core at once earning a choked out moan from you. You fit around his fingers so perfectly, almost as if he'd molded your pussy to do so.

His brows furrowed as his fingers searched inside of her, knuckle deep, "fuck," he cursed, "look how you suckin' my fingers in you like that. You missed daddy, this fuckin' pussy missed me."

It wasn't like you could respond at all, he was literally pulling your moans out of you with his fingers. His free hand had busied itself with pulling up your tank top and exposing your braless titties.

"Look how you came out here," he kissed his teeth, fingers massaging your slippery insides, the lewd sounds of your pussy squelching on his fingers filled the pickup truck, his other fingers pulling and tugging on your hardened nipples, squeezing softly before quickly pulling away. "Barely fuckin' dressed, you wanted this. You wanted daddy to get you right, huh?"

"Talkin' about' dates, you don't want them fuckin' clowns," he hummed peppering soft kisses on your cheek, his fingers attacking that delicious spot inside of you. "You just want daddy to flood that pussy again? Make you his bitch?"

"Oouu shit, daddy!" You moaned out, eyes squeezing shut as your head lazily fell against his shoulder. Him humming in agreement to your moans followed by a cocky chuckle. "Right there, right there!" You rushed out. Your resolve had slipped away a long time ago.

"Where baby?" He cooed,his tone condescending. "Right here?" He asked his fingers never deterring from the spot, instead he pushed them deeper, faster.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as his fingers continued to work inside of you, he whispered other obscenities to you as he finger fucked you good. Deliciously good. So good that you couldn't decipher or comprehend anything he'd been saying. The sound of your pussy around his fingers was sending you to another bliss you didn't know you could reach.

"Listen to how messy that pussy sound on my fingers, baby," he groaned, his free hand gripping your face firmly, tilting your head up from his shoulder so that he could watch your facial expressions closely. He smiled as he watched you; eyes squeezed shut, lips forming into that familiar frown he knew so well, a long whine following suit.

"Yeah, that pussy wanna cum for daddy don't she?" He asked placing a sloppy kiss on your parted lips.

"Oh my god," you whined your brows furrowing as you opened your watery eyes to Terry looking down right at you.

"Yeah, she do," he mumbled nodding his eyes focusing in on the assault his fingers were doing to your pussy before slipping them out slowly, rubbing the stickiness he accumulated on his fingers onto your clit in slow, agonizing circles earning a whine from you. "You better not fuckin' cum though," he mumbled quietly to you, hand softly tapping against your cheek.

"Don't..cum?" You slurred through a moan for confirmation. You could barely comprehend what he was saying, you were so deliciously close. So close.

"Don't cum," he slapped his finger against your pussy lightly, the wet plaps almost enough to send you over the edge. Only almost though. "Get in the backseat, I wanna get in that pussy." He spoke hand slapping down on your sensitive pussy once again, sending trembles to your already weakened legs.

—

cheers to my first fanfic on here lolz! feedback and criticism always welcome 💗💕 hope you enjoyed xx!

[the1975attheirverybest]

A/N: my writing is still shit I guess. But here’s my first attempt and getting back into it.

Warnings: stranger danger? Maybe? Nothing too graphic or serious.

— — —

“So, what do you think? Which one?” She stared at him expectantly.

When Matty enthusiastically agreed to go shopping with her this morning, he had no idea that, an hour and 45 minutes in, he would be asked to weigh in on which shade of yellow towel set better matches the aesthetic of their bathroom at home.

“I- think, ummm, the mustard yellow?” He quirked his brows. To him, the two shades looked identical, but hey, if the love of his life says there’s a difference, then he must just be blind. Judging by the way that her face lit up at his answer, he knew he’d picked the one that she was hoping he’d pick. “Hey, babe, why don’t I hold your purse and coffee while you go check out the candles?”

She smiled at him. “You’re….not having fun, are you?” She cocked her head sheepishly.

“I’m having fun! I promise! Just thought you’d wanna smell the different scents and browse properly. Can’t do that if your hands are full.”

“Yeah, which is sweet, and I love you for it, but you hate shopping.”

“I’m not here for the shopping. I’m here for the girl who’s doing the shopping. Go on- I’m fine! I promise!”

She handed him her half full coffee cup, then slowly and carefully set the strap of her bag around his shoulder before giving him a quick kiss. “You’re a saint.”

Matty laughed, following her lead down the aisles.

***

“Okay, smell this one.”

Matty leaned in, taking a deep inhale to sample a whiff of the scented candle. He erupted into a coughing fit. “F-fuckin- hell. W-what the fuck is that called?”

She giggled, twirling the candle jar around to read the label. “Ummm…Ocean Breeze.”

“That’s not the scent of the ocean! That’s the scent of a pool. Full of chlorine. And children’s urine.”

She laughed heartily and made a smart retort that Matty only heard in the background as all his focus shifted to the tall, muscular, blond man at the end of the aisle, by the “essential oils and diffusers” section. Something about him didn’t feel right. Though Matty couldn’t quite figure out why.

“I think the Santa and Vanilla candle wins.” She finally announced, placing her winning candle in the cart.

Matty wheeled the cart ahead walking alongside her as she browsed the shelves, gradually getting closer and closer to the blond man. Then it hit him. Matty finally figured out why this man’s presence was unsettling. He’d seen him before. At the bedding aisle. And the kitchenware aisle. Just out of the corner of his eye. Wherever this man was, a few feet ahead, stood two young teenagers. 13- maybe- 14 years old. Alarm bells sounded in his head, he inched closer with his cart, pretending to need something from the shelf that the child stalker stood at, and blocking his view.

Just as Matty had thought, the man got out from behind him, rounded his cart, and crept closer to the girls.

“Are you looking for something?” The man squeezed in the ring space between the two girls.

Was he a store clerk, perhaps? Had Matty been too paranoid? Is it simply a coincidence that this guy was innocently doing his job, reorganizing the shelves wherever those two girls happened to be? He picked up a random room spray bottle, pretending to read the label for ingredients while trying to assess the situation.

“I’m really tall, so I can reach the shelves if you need me to.”

Okay, that was definitely an unreasonable thing to say. Those shelves weren’t too high for these girls to reach. And even if he were an employee. He’s standing way too close to both of them for this to be merely professional customer service.

“Babe, did you say you were running low on that CBD oil thing that you take on tour? Cuz I think-“

Matty shushed her, and when she persisted anyway, he whispered “shut the fuck up, darlin.”

She was both shocked and irritated, and as she prepared to give him shit for being so rude, she noticed his eyes fixated on something behind her. She turned around following his gaze, and, instantly, she recognized the situation.

“Oh, fuck no.” She whispered. “I’m gonna go get security.” Marching away as fast as she could without arousing the man’s suspicion.

Matty nodded, staying firmly in place and keeping a watchful eye over the situation.

***

“Right this way, sir. They were just around the candle aisle.” She pointed the security man to where she’d been standing, minutes ago, with her boyfriend, when they’d witnessed the incident. “Oh, for fucks sakes, Matty.” She mumbled as soon as she and the security guy had spotted them.

Matty’s hand was wrapped around the man’s upper arm. And he’d made a scene. “Might be difficult to get it through that thick head of yours. What with all that hair gel on top-“. Matty’s free hand swatted at the guy’s styled hair.

“Matty! That’s assault!” She rushed to her boyfriend’s side, attempting to assuage him. To her relief, though, the girls seemed to be amused.

“Alright, gentlemen. What seems to be the problem?” The security man cleared his throat assertively announcing his presence as he stepped forward, scanning Matty from head to toe.

Relieved that someone was an official badge had taken over the situation, she turned her attention to the young girls. “You young ladies alright?”

“Yeah.” One muttered while the other nodded repeated.

“Is that your boyfriend?” The taller girl who had a dimpled smile and braces on her teeth, asked.

“Y-yeah.”

The both looked on as Matty gesticulated passionately, explaining to the security officer what had happened. The girls took in his every word with awe and admiration.

She, on the other hand, found the whole thing a boring display of masculinity. I mean, Matty knew security would be there any second.

“He’s touched them! What else did you want me to do? Stand by and watch the kids get hurt??! He grabbed her arm so I fuckin grabbed his.” Matty pushed the curls that had fallen into his eye line as she yelled.

“I- sir, thank you for stepping in, but right now, all I need you to do is….well, let go of his arm.”

“Oh. Right.” Reluctantly, Matty’s hold on the guy loosened. He eventually withdrew completely.

“Sir, can I see some ID?”

“This is absurd. This guy’s mental!”

“ID please? We have security Cameras throughout the store. I’m sure we can corroborate the story.”

The security officer’s negotiating voice faded into irrelevance as Matty returned to his girlfriend and the two young girls. He took a deep breath, softening his face and putting on a bright smile. “So, how’re we all doing?”

The girls shyly and sincerely thanked him for stepping in, confirming that Matty’s suspicions were right. The guy had been following them around the store. They had noticed and tried to evade him by going into different aisles, but in doing so, they’re unintentionally dragged themselves further away from the exit, and into a quieter part of the store.

“Need us to walk you out? Just to be safe?” His girlfriend offered.

“Wait, hold on.” Matty interjected. “No reason to rush. These ladies came here to do some shopping. You get everything you need? No? Well, go on then. We’ll be right with you. Make sure nobody else bothers you, yeah? What do you say?”

***

Matty and his girlfriend hovered protectively on either side of the girls as they walked around the store. It was slightly weird at first. Both for the girls and for Matty. But, he noticed that his girlfriend immediately took it upon herself to ease the awkwardness by asking questions. Getting to know them. Before too long, the girls were walking on either side of her, giggling, and asking her opinion on outfits and room decor items while Matty had, somehow, found himself their bag boy. Holding on to their belonging, carrying their stuff, and dragging along behind them.

“Oh, no, please. Let me.” Matty produced a credit card out of his wallet, handing it to the register lady. “All together, please.”

“You don’t have to! We have money. Mom gave me her card!” The girl with the braces, whose name was Annie, as Matty had come to learn, protested.

“Consider it an apology. On behalf of my gender. To make up for…well, I know nothing really makes up for how uncomfortable and scary that kind of thing is. But, let me at least try.”

***

As the two young girls got into their Uber, Matty turned towards his girlfriend, taking the shopping bag from her hand and carrying it for her. He was replaying the unexpected events of the day in his head, trying to find the right words, but she beat him to it.

“That’s why I’m in love with you.” She whispered, wrapping both of her arms around his waist and hugging into his side.

Matty chuckled. “What, so it’s not my killer looks then?”

“I mean….that doesn’t hurt your chances. But mostly the other stuff….seriously, I had no idea he’d actually grabbed the girl.”

“Fuckin lost it when I saw that.”

She simply smiled. “I love you, Matty. I learn more about how wonderful you are everyday.”

“You know what I learned about me today, though?”

“What’s that?”

“My music is not popular with the middle schoolers.”

She burst into light and airy laughter. “Oh, gosh! That’s right! In all the intensity of the moment, I forgot about that! They had no clue who you are!”

“Yeah. It was quite nice actually.” He grinned, kissing the top of her head.

[hiemaldesirae]

Thorn here: that's fucking hilarious that Vox is SOO proud on how his fucking cat KILLED 3-4 of his ppl and then MAIMED more of em he literally told ALL of HELL. I'm DYING.

Lucifer: *looking *directly at Alastor.* "It figures the only guy interested in you could tame THAT beast. Of course he'd be an animal person."

Husk: *chokes on his drink.*

more cat drabbles it is. go forth pathetic little orphaned child and the rest of you freaks (/aff). feast

"No, okay, I fucking *get* it, Populis--" Vox puts a hand to his forehead as the door opens behind him, suppressing another sigh as he turns around to greet Velvette, the doll sinner raising an eyebrow in an unimpressed manner as she watches him fumble with his phone. "Look, I'll get back to you later. Velvette. To what do I owe the displeasure?"

"Not even trying to keep up the act anymore, are you?" Velvette crosses her arms as she enters the room, releasing the fluffball of red fur in her arms to let him run to Vox, the Media Overlord immediately scooping Venom up the moment he gets close enough. "Val and I can only do so much, you know. Belle's been running damage control for days now, and she doesn't know how much longer she can keep it up without organic photos."

"Don't even start with me on that. Dei and Lis have been all up my asshole about it enough, I don't need you guys too," Vox grumbles. "Listen, Vel, I'll get back to business *soon*. Really, I will. I just need to figure out what the fuck Alastor is playing at this time."

"Just tune him out! What's the fucking point of listening to a thing that bastard has to say?" Velvette throws her hands up in her air in exasperation, "I mean, come the fuck on, Vox- it's not like he's some sort of demented ex trying to get your attention back or something! It's just your stupid, crazed rival who rejected you *once* a few years back because he's got no taste."

Vox frowns down at Venom, who simply cuddles into his arm and purrs. The tension drains from his posture as he watches the kitten rub up to him, letting his shoulders slump as the little ball of fluff curls up closer into his chest. "It's not... like that, Vel."

"Then what the hell is it? I mean, you and Val are always acting so secretive about your past with the Radio Freak-- you can't expect me to be able to stay in the loop with all that when you two are acting like this, right?"

"He's just taunting me again," Vox murmurs. "He does that sometimes. You know, there was that one time after he left, seven years ago... the frequency from his end turned on. When I tried to tune in, the only thing on the other end was laughing. I wanted to ask him how he was doing, but..."

"So... what, he likes to taunt you by destroying full blocks of buildings?"

"Something like that," Vox shrugs. "Just... it's fine. It'll all go back to normal once he grows bored of doing it or whatever, and then we can go back to normal again."

"If you say so," Velvette frowns. It's clear she doesn't believe him, but she doesn't press further-- a discretion that Vox is grateful for. He runs his hand over Venom's soft fur as Velvette exits the room, being careful not to scratch the little cat with his sharp claws.

Sighing, he looks down at the cat still laid on his chest, cheek smushed against his torso. "What do you think I should do about your freaky doppleganger, hm?"

The cat looks up at him and simply meows, looking up at him with its large eyes.

"Yeah, okay, I don't know what I was thinking asking that," Vox snorts. "I'll just... wait it out."

"Okay, Smiles, seriously, what the *fuck* are you doing?!" Angel bursts into the main lobby with an angry look on his face, something unusual for the porn star. "The Vees Tower has been on complete lockdown for like, a week now! I've got fuckin' bills to pay, drugs ta' buy! Stop being a fuckin' freak so I can go and get my paycheck!"

Alastor's eye twitches from where he sits hunched over the small shrine, complete with several dismembered plushies of that damned fucking cat.

All this, and Vox still wasn't acknowledging any of his attempts to get his attention. And that fucking cat... at this point, perhaps he would just have to break into Vox's tower himself.

[th0rns-n-r0ses]

taking off ~

[Requested by a friend]

axl rose ~ fluff ~ female reader ~ 2697 words ~

~~~~~

To you, it was just another day in high school. To him, it’s the beginning of a new life. Axl occasionally glances over at you every once in a while during English class, and it’s clear he’s not paying attention, even though you’re just doing some in-class reading. He still looks over at you, as if he wants your attention. Eventually, you give in and look over at him. He’s holding up his notebook, and in his writing in all-capitals it says: “MEET ME IN THE LIBRARY DURING 5TH”. You quirk your eyebrow and give him a nod, then go back to reading. What does he want? Sure, he might be your best friend [And maybe your new boyfriend too], but he’s never been so.. What’s the word, secretive? Suspicious? Yeah, suspicious. After this small encounter with him, you can’t seem to focus. Is he gonna break up with you? Has he found someone else? Hell, what if it’s not even about that at all? You bounce your leg while biting your lip, and the words on the page do not even make sense. The anxiety pumping through your veins makes your entire body warm, causing you to slip your jacket off. Your past flow of fast reading has turned into the words looking like gibberish. The panic gets worse and worse and worse until-

BRIIINNNGGGG!!

The bell rings, startling you. You let out a long sigh and mark the page you left off on, slipping the book into your bag. Your heart’s racing, and you glance back over at Axl’s seat. He’s not there. Safest to assume that he’s already left for the library. You quickly pick up your stuff and head for the other building where the library is.

You pull your jacket over your shoulders, as the season is changing and the leaves fall off the trees, crunching beneath the feet of other teens at school. Upon entering the next building, you turn a corner and climb the staircase to the library. You scan the library for Axl as soon as you enter, but that bundle of fiery ginger hair is nowhere to be seen. You walk through the aisles of books, looking around for him. You stand next to the wall next to the small room that was only used for printing, your arms crossed and your brow furrowed. Is this a joke? Is this simply to waste your time? But you feel a large, somewhat-bony hand grab yours and pull you into the printer, causing you to let out a yelp. But you see that handsome face and piercing blue eyes. Axl! There he is.

“I’ve got somethin’ I wanna tell ya.” Axl looks down at you and picks up both your hands, holding them in his. He gives you a hopeful look, his blue eyes sparking despite the dim light of the room. He gives you a gentle smile.

“I’m getting the fuck outta this one-horse town, baby. Do you wanna come with me?” You look at him with big eyes, wondering. “Well, where are we going?”

A sly smirk spreads across Axl’s lips and his eyes burn with icy fire. “The City of Angels. I wanna go down to Los Angeles with ya, baby.”

Your mouth falls open. Los fuckin’ Angeles, the place you’ve always dreamed of going to. And Axl wants to take you there. You give his hands a squeeze and a smile quickly beams across your face. “Of course I wanna go! When are we leaving?”

“Tonight. I’ll stop by your place at… 11 tonight and pick you up. Is that enough time?” Axl asks with a kind smile.

“Tonight!?” You think, “He wants to leave tonight??” After a moment or two of thinking, you look back up at him and squeeze his hands again. “Wherever you go, I will follow.”

His face lights up like a Christmas tree and he pulls you close, kissing your lips. His kisses always make your blood pump and your face turn red. One of his hands from yours and holds your cheek. After a few moments of his lips on yours, he pulls away.

“I’ll see you then, my love.” Axl’s thumb strokes your cheek and you lean into his hand with a gentle smile on your face and eyes full of love. He plants a kiss on your forehead and lets go of you, leaving the small printing office. You lean your head out and watch him walk away to his friend group, knowing this’ll be the last time he sees them.

Guess today isn't such a normal day for you after all.

~~~~~

Hours later, you sit in your room, throwing your valuables into a suitcase, as well as clothes and essentials, in case you won’t be able to afford them after you leave. Your eyes always dart to the clock every few minutes, wondering how much time you have until Axl comes and sweeps you into his car to take you away from Indiana. Every once in a while, you look around your room, making sure you don’t miss anything that you value. Polaroid photos. Stuffed animals. Your favorite shirt. Any jacket you may have stolen from Axl.

After long amounts of time spent looking around and packing up things you value, your room looks like a shell of what it once was. Posters are missing from the walls and your record collection has diminished to just the ones your parents gave to you, thinking they know your music taste but it’s nothing you enjoy. You pat your turntable, knowing that you’re never gonna see it again, as it’s gonna be too big to fit into the car.

You zip up your suitcase and bags, picking them up and walking down the stairs, grunting a little from the weight. Your eyes dart to the grandmother clock in the foyer, dissecting the Roman numerals. 10:50. You’ve got 10 minutes till Axl takes you away from here. You think a bit, wondering what else you might need. Your thoughts wander to the hidden money stash in the laundry room that your parents don’t know that you know of its existence. You quickly but quietly move into the laundry room, scouring the cabinets for that jar of money. After climbing up on the counter, you can see the small jar with many $10 and $20 bills. You empty the jar, looking through the rolled-up bills. 12 $10s and 7 $20s. $260 to keep you and your boyfriend alive. That’s more than enough, right? And God, your parents need a new place to store this much money. This is easy cash.

You stuff the bills into your pocket and slide back into the foyer, looking at the clock. 10:53. These last 7 minutes are getting on your nerves. And your parents, oh boy, your parents are gonna freak.. If you don’t explain.

After grabbing a pencil and paper, you sit down at the kitchen table and write a note for them. You decide not to mention Axl, as they never have approved of your boyfriend. You write down that you’re hitting the road to go figure out your life, as you’ve never felt satisfied here and you’re starting a new life. You fold up the note and write ‘To Mom and Dad’ on it and put the pencil away. Check the clock. 10:59.

You move back over to the foyer and wait by the window, and at 11:00 sharp, the bell to the grandmother clock chimes. You glance at the clock, then back at the window and see Axl’s dark red Ford pull up. Your heart flutters as you see him exit the car and lean against it, waiting for you. His stuff is already in the back, and the whole scenario comes crashing down. You’re leaving. Forever. With Lafayette’s biggest heartbreaker.

But it’s worth it. You love him, and you know he really does love you back. You’ve seen the way he’s looked at his other girlfriends compared to you. His eyes were always dull when he looked at them, but when they turn your direction, they sparkle and shine with love.

You pick up your bags and exit the house. When he sees you leaving the door, his entire face lights up and he rushes over to help you with your bags. He picks up your suitcase and one of your backpacks and walks over to the car after giving you a kiss on the temple. God, you love him. He’s so sweet with you. Axl packs your things into the trunk and closes it. He hugs you by the shoulder and kisses the top of your head.

“This is it, baby.” He looks at you and rubs your shoulder. “Off we go.” You climb into the passenger’s seat as he slides into the driver’s and he gives you a smile.

“How’s a shift system sound? I drive at night, you drive at day? And we catch up on sleep when we’re not driving.” Axl suggests with a smile.

“Sounds good to me, love.” You smile and put a hand on his thigh as he steps on the gas and the car tears down the street.

~~~~~

A few days later, you guys are still driving. Axl has the inability to shave, so a light stubble dots his lower face. He looks kind of cute with it, you won’t lie. You both have been driving nonstop, only stopping the car when you needed to take a piss, get some food or just stretch your legs and get some fresh air. You’ve just changed shifts, as the sun has completely set behind the horizon. Axl wraps the blanket around you before he begins to drive again, the car moving down the road. Your eyes flutter shut and you doze off a little, that cute picture of Axl wearing his cowboy hat and that light stubble on his jaw imprinted in your brain.

You guys are driving on the plains of Colorado, moving west to get to California. The only reason you’re down here is because Axl wants to see the mountains and drive through them. You can’t complain, though, you’ve wanted to see them, too.

You doze off for a few hours, and around 1 in the morning, you feel the burning sensation of smoke tickle the back of your throat, making you cough and sneeze.

“SHIT!” Axl yells and immediately gets out of the car. A bit confused, you open your eyes and see smoke flooding the car. Axl quickly opens your door and pulls you out.

“Ax? What’s going on??” You ask in a sleepy confusion, the sudden cold air hitting your skin, making you shiver.

“I dunno. Something’s wrong with the engine.” Axl sets you down on your feet and moves over to the hood, popping it open. Clouds of smoke emerge from it, causing him to cough and sputter. He quickly backs away and looks at you, fanning the smoke out of his eyes. “Looks like we’ve gotta spend the night off the road, babe. We’ve been working the poor thing to death.” You sigh as he wraps an arm around your shoulders hugging you close. “We’ll take her into the shop tomorrow, okay?”

Axl sits down on the trunk and pats the spot next to it for you. You want to go back inside of the car, but it’s filled with smoke. Axl picks up the blanket and puts it around your shoulders, making sure you’re warm. You stretch out your arm and put some of the blanket around him, too, so he wouldn’t be cold throughout the night. Your head tilts upwards, looking at the sky.

“Hey, Ax, look up.” You say, pointing at the sky. His face turns and looks upwards, and his jaw drops a little. “Aren’t the stars pretty out here?”

“They sure are.” Axl looks up at the stars with you, his eyes taking in every last detail of the sky. His hand resides on your waist, giving it a light squeeze. He looks down at you, his eyes following every detail of your face. Axl puts his fingers on your chin and moves your face to look at him. Your eyes make contact, and your focus soon goes to his soft lips. He leans in slightly, as do you, and your lips make contact in a sweet and gentle kiss, your eyes closing. A few moments or later, he pulls away slightly. Your eyes open slightly and loop down at his slightly parted lips. You look back up at his eyes, which are also just barely open. Not another word is shared between the two of you for the rest of the night, as you lean your head on Axl’s shoulder, your cheek squished slightly as you fall into a comfortable yet cold rest.

~~~~~

The next morning, Axl is yawning and tapping you on the shoulder. He was awake the whole night, keeping an eye out and making sure you were safe.

“Rise and shine, beautiful.” Axl says in a sweet tone while rubbing your shoulder, and another yawn escapes his lips. “We’re gonna go find the nearest town and get the car fixed, okay?” You nod reluctantly, not knowing how many miles you two are gonna have to walk today. 5? 10? More? Either way, you have to go. Wherever he goes, you will follow. And you’re not gonna make him go alone.

After about five miles of walking, you reach an exit. Axl’s leaning on you a bit, staggering a little as he got no sleep last night, and he’s supposed to be asleep now. You rub his shoulder and support him as he fights off sleep.

“Almost there, babe. Just a little longer.” You whisper into his ear as he lets out another yawn and a nod. His red hair is a little tangled and his face looks more pale than usual. You feel terrible for the guy, he looks so tired. But God, he looks adorable in his cowboy hat and boots, as well as his white button-up and high-waisted tight blue jeans. You brush some of the hair behind his ear and look at his gentle face for motivation to keep going.

A mile or two later, you reach the auto shop and walk inside, a sleepy Axl clinging to your side and a dirty blanket around your shoulders. After talking to the owner of the shop, he picks the two of you up in his tow truck and Axl curls up on your lap, finally catching some Z’s. After about 5 minutes of driving, you reach the Ford and the guy looks over at it, getting out of the tow. He looks at it a bit, then walks over to the truck and takes out a toolbox and begins to work on the car. About 15 minutes later, he walks over to your door and knocks on the window. Axl jumps in his sleep at the sudden noise, but his eyes remain shut and his snores continue.

“I got it fixed, ma’am. Simple break. You should be back on the road in no time.” He opens the door for you to get out, and you slide out from under Axl, making your way to the car. You stick your key in and the engine starts up.

“Thank you so much, sir.” You smile at him and pick Axl up out of the truck and set him in the shotgun seat of the car. You take out some of the rolled up cash from your pocket and pay him what he charges, and the mechanic gets into his tow truck and drives away

You slide back into the car in the driver’s seat and look over at Axl. His cowboy hat is lopsided on his face and a bit of his hair is in his mouth. God, he’s just cute. You close the door to the car and move the blanket over on top of him, your foot stepping on the gas. You take a glance over at your sleeping boyfriend as you drive, making away across the Colorado plains to California. ~~~~~

[pocketgalaxies]

i feel like we're gonna need a whole long individual post from you where you sum up your thoughts and feelings of c3ep51...it's a doozy and i'm interested to hear what you have to say!!😵‍💫

okay. okayyy. i just finished the ep so i haven't had a lot of time to think about it yet but. initial reaction is that i'm feeling a little hm. bad! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

obviously i haven't been on tungle so idk if a lot of other ppl feel this way or if i'm in the minority but. a lot of the latter parts felt bad. like in my soul, i mean. i was simply not having as good of a time as i wanted to be having.

cue complaining! apologies in advance:

it was like. liliana being obstinate, even with appreciably high rolls from imogen. ludinus giving this stupid-ass speech that went on for ages about how his life is sooo so so so hard. sky ship was a complete and utter bust. beau and caleb were a complete and utter bust. keyleth was obviously a complete and utter bust and then some. fcg was just stuck in a goddamn automaton for half the thing. destroying power cores maybe caused the key to malfunction, we'll find out, but they certainly didn't feel particularly influential in the final climax. nobody in the party even had an opportunity to do anything during initiative with the backpack having an AC of fucking 25 (when bh is only level 8!!!). laudna and ashton weren't even there, which obviously couldn't have been predicted or controlled, but it didn't feel good

i can appreciate and understand the idea of having it be very clear that this effort was actually futile from the beginning, because ludinus is unbelievably powerful and otohan beat their asses already and this was a plan centuries in the making and the manpower was there and the group is low-level etc etc. maybe this was always meant to happen, maybe the rest of the campaign as matt planned hinges on the majority of ludinus' plan succeeding, which is FINE. but i don't think i was alone in thinking that there was a non-negligible amount of hope going into this ep that something amazing might happen, esp with beau caleb and keyleth all explicitly involved. and it was all, very very unceremoniously, crushed piece by piece and all ludinus had to do was raise a fuckin pinky. you know what i mean? it just felt too easy for him. after watching bells hells painstakingly plan and desperately recruit help for two straight eps, i just sat here and watched ludinus shit and spit on all of that within seconds? felt bad. i think if there was more of an encounter, more of a fighting chance, then it wouldn't have made me as a viewer feel stupid for thinking something might actually fuckin work

i think it could be argued that the otohan fight in bassuras was similar in its feeling of futility, but like. it wasn't??? bc they were fighting her, they were doing damage, they were using up her spells and her legendary actions/resistances, and there was decision-making involved esp on laura's part. there was good rp and there was tension and risky choices, and the players were driving the ship. here it was like every single thing they threw at it didn't even make it in the door. the whole thing was over in one round

speaking of one round, i really actually quite unironically hated the 5 full minutes during which matt rolled 200 damage or whatever against keyleth. obviously because i love her, but also because it was the quintessential moment in the ep of making me sit here and go "what is the fucking point." one of the most powerful people on the entire planet, down before she can even think to do anything about it. and then vax shows up in this triumphant moment of divine victory just to get totally fucked. BY IMOGEN'S MOM, NO LESS. and NEITHER of them got a turn in initiative. bc ludinus is sooo smart and sooo powerful and sooo wise and sooo evil. vom

so anyway. i don't think i'm nearly as mad as this post makes me sound, but i am definitely having trouble finding parts about the latter half of this ep that i particularly enjoyed, at least in hindsight. like in the moment vax's appearance was Amazing. Legendary. but the fact that all it did was play into ludinus' hand made it feel lowkey like shit. so idk!

sorry this post turned into me saying mean things. i was trying to keep an open mind during my liveblog but i was quite frustrated at certain points lmao idk i'll keep thinking on it and you'll prob see posts from me if i change my mind about things

[roosterbruiser]

GIRL i miss jake and filly so bad i will take crumbs minuscule crumbs

I have 8 pages of scraps...here's a few crumbs for you <3

You’re tired--you feel like you’re always tired when you’re at work, especially when it gets so dead in here. You’ve already swept the nasty floors and wiped the sticky counters and counted the register and made things stupidly easy for your coworker who comes into work reeking of sweat and weed. 

Now you’re just buying time until Jake picks you up, tapping your fingers against the counter and seeing how long you can hold your breath. You haven’t gotten past thirty-four seconds. 

This is literally the kind of boredom that kills people. 

It’s been empty in here for a couple hours now--this sad little ice cream shop on Clearview Street, nestled between a shoe cobbler and a dog groomer’s. It’s barely even three in the afternoon--of course no one wants ice cream right now. Even when it’s this achingly hot outside, there’s always a lull in business around this time. 

But that at least means you can turn the radio up. Right now, Plastic Jesus by Tia Blake is playing. It’s the only other sound in the shop besides your chipped nails tapping against the fridge in the back. 

You’re taking your stained apron off when the bells above the door chime. 

Sighing, you slip your apron back on and turn so you’re lingering near the cash registers and glass-lidded freezer. But you’re instantaneously relieved when you find that it’s not another ratty-haired brat waiting for another free sample before you--it’s Jake. He’s leaning over the counter, grinning at you, his eyes heavy but shining in the harsh fluorescents. 

“Well, howdy,” you greet with a huff, mirroring his position so your elbows are pressed together. “Thought you were gonna be another rugrat.” 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. 

“Disappointed?” He asks. 

He’s trying to take you in without you growing uncomfortable--not that his gaze has ever made you uncomfortable. You’re wearing the ugliest hot-pink collared shirt with the Dairy ‘N’ Berries logo on the breast, a faded pair of blue jeans, and clunky tennis shoes that he thinks used to be white. Your hair is pulled back--as much as you can pull your hair back--and your face is free of any makeup. You look tired like you always do during a morning shift--which is stupid because who the fuck gets ice cream at eight in the morning?--but you look happy to see him. 

“Entirely,” you tease right back. You glance at the clock. Only a few more minutes until your coworker is to come in and relieve you. You have time. “Pick your poison. Quick!” 

Jake glances down at the buckets of ice cream, all six of them, and ignores the fat black fly buzzing around in the glass. Beggars can’t be choosers. He points to the strawberry and you nod at once, grabbing one of the shitty paper cups from beside the register and scooping the ice cream hastily. 

“How was work, honey?” Jake asks, taking the cup from you and leaning against the counter. You don’t hand him a spoon so he simply digs his two fingers in the cup and sucks the ice cream off them. “Make enough money to get us the Hell outta dodge?” 

You shake your head, frowning. You untie your apron again and hang it up on a crooked hook. 

“Someone tipped me in fuckin’ dryer lint today,” you say, pointing to the measly tip jar. “Honestly, maybe they thought that was our trash can. Can’t blame ‘em, I guess.” 

Jake is making a proper mess--like he always does. He’s scooping the pink ice cream out and sucking his fingers clean devilishly, making lewd noises when his tongue twirls around his fingernails. He has cream all around his mouth now, doing his damndest to finish the secret cup of ice cream before your coworker relieves you. 

“You poor thing,” Jake tuts, sticking out his lower lip. 

You nod, throwing your hands up. 

“I know. People should just throw their money at me,” you say. “Like a stripper.” 

“Would if I could,” Jake sighs, eyebrows raised. 

That makes you laugh. 

“What’re you implyin’? Think I’m stripper material?” 

Jake snorts, his eyes falling to his fingers dipped in the quickly-melting ice cream. His cheeks are dusted pink, which is strange because you hardly ever see his cheeks get pink. Not unless he’s pissed off or very drunk. But this is a new blush, surely--one that has something to do with the thought of you taking all your clothes off and performing for Jake. 

This is your usual banter, something you’ve probably joked about before. But now there’s something sitting between you two, something that makes your thighs feel weak and your tongue dry. The two of you still haven’t spoken about the night of graduation, even if it’s been consuming both of your thoughts. Even though both of you are tossing and turning at night, replaying every moment from the encounter, neither of you have been brave enough to say something about it.  

So now you’re stuck thinking about it--about you being a stripper. About your naked body in front of his naked eyes. You’re thinking about what lace would feel like covering the meat of your ass, thinking about what it would feel like if Jake touched you through the lace. And Jake is just thinking about you, the heat between your legs, the way you clamped down over him. He’s thinking about the phone call his mama’s gonna get later from Mrs. Odette, too, but he’s trying not to.

“I think you can do anythin’ you set your mind to,” Jake decides on. 

The two of you look at each other for a long moment, watching each other’s mouths. 

“Slap that on a poster,” you whisper finally, biting your lip. 

Jake looks at your face--how earnest and lovely it is, even in this dingy ice cream shop with the awful overhead lighting--and decides that he should say it now. He should say it here and if things don’t go well or they get awkward, there will only be a few minutes until you’re off shift anyway.

“Emma--you remember her?” Jake says, grinning when you pretend to think. He’s glad that landed--glad you’re not running for the hills at the first mention of Emmaline Odette.

“Rings a bell,” you shrug. 

You know where this is going. 

Your heart is racing. This conversation, for all its non-causality, feels like it’s about to get even more serious. You know that Jake sometimes likes to tease and crack pathetic little jokes when he doesn’t want to say something. You’d be willing to be he said something stupid to Emmaline when breaking up with her--and you know, know with your entire aching chest, that is what he is about to tell you. 

And Jake is watching you carefully, noting how slacked your face is and how quickly your chest is moving even though you’re trying to hide it with your hair. He wants to take your hand, but he knows you’d just feel like he’s drawing more attention to it--which is probably precisely what you don’t want. So he just keeps eating his ice cream, letting his eyes fall down to where your hand is gripping the counter. 

“Yeah, well…” Jake says with a shrug, “she’s history. Well--we’re history.”

Biting a small smile, you nod. 

“As of?”

Jake glances at the clock. 

“Fifteen minutes ago,” he answers. 

“Oh,” you say, blinking at him. 

He’s not looking at you as he eats his ice cream. And because you know Jake better than you know anyone else in the world, it suddenly registers on his face that things didn’t end nicely. He’s got that little crease between his brows, the one that is practically the word anguish written across his forehead. And his lips are bitten, his cheeks still a bit pink. 

“How’d it go?” You press very softly. 

Your heart is still racing. You’re worried that maybe he’s realized that this is a mistake--that there really wasn’t a reason for him to break things off with Emma. 

“Bad,” he answers with a small smile. “Told her why people call her butter.” 

Your face scrunches in displeasure. You don’t like Emmaline Odette--you would probably delight in never seeing her again if you had it your way--but you know that butter is a particularly cruel nickname. 

“Wicked,” you say, sighing. “Maybe she needed to know, I guess.” 

“Here,” Jake grins, scooping some more on his fingers and nodding for you to come closer to him. “Ice cream makes everythin’ better.” 

You’ve done this before--of course you have. You’ve ate out of his hands more times than you can count between spilled pudding cups and melting popsicles. But when you open your mouth and he rests his fingers heavy against your tongue, when you sloppily suck that sweet cream off his fingers while blinking softly up at him--it washes over you again. Those fingers were in your cunt a few nights ago. And the two of you still have not talked about it--not fully, not the way you want to talk about it. 

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

So on a scale of one to hell fuckin yeah, how down would Arkham Jervis be to leash and collar his S/O? And how down would he be to take them somewhere public with it on? Also if you know who this is, no you don't.

"Kindly Submission" Arkham Mad Hatter x Reader

Oh I don't, huh? No clue who you are, got it.

TW: Mentions of mind control/chemicals, collar and leash play, nsfw

On a scale of 1-hell yeah, normally he sits at a 5 or 6. He has no negative feelings about it, but he's not gunning for it, either. It's attractive, but not something he actively thinks about. A symbol of devotion and promise to behave for him. Which is why if a partner was into it and it crossed his mind, that scale would get bumped up to about a hell yeah.

It might be a small, innocent comment that gets him thinking on it. Your pretty throat adorned... He'd start with a velvet choker. Blue and white cameo hanging off it. That plus the matching fashion- just to see how it likes it, the choker the centerpiece.

It gives him this additional sense of power besides dressing you in the clothes he makes and wants. Something that, even if you DID wear more "casual" clothing, there would be a piece of him left behind on you. Quite like leaving your monogrammed handkerchief with a paramour. If he thinks of it that way it sounds very intimate, doesn't it?

The velvet choker soon isn't enough. He tells you he wants something permanent. He expects you to be good and do as he asks. You want to be his good Alice, don't you? Then come here and kneel... And he'll put your collar on.

He's not one for harsh materials. Soft leathers, lace, plush inner linings. He sees that some people put metallic labels on them. He's not fond of that. In terms of appearances, he likes them to be frilly, delicate and cute. After all, even if you're male-identifying, that's how he sees his "Alice."

Oh how he'll giggle and coo over you when you wear the collar. Isn't this so delightful? Don't you look so darling? Now behave or he'll have to pull the leash <3.

This does become a bit of play in how well you follow instructions without his mind control. You've done so well that he doesn't need to strip you of free will! You're giving it to him. Isn't that lovely? Ah. But not perfect. If you get resentful or talk back, you get one warning tug. Come here and give him a kiss. No? No?

It's all a clever game between the two of you, orchestrated and discussed, even if his brain can get scrambled and caught up on details. It's when you say no and not some sort of safe word that he pulls hard until your lips are crashing to his. His fingers loop into the collar itself to keep you there.

"Behave, Alice. You mustn't be wicked. You know what will happen." The punishment changes every time depending on how he's feeling. Better to just cozy back up in his lap and show him you'll be good.

Honestly he has very little issue with taking this out in public because of aforementioned lack of social graces as mentioned in previous asks. It's not inherently sexual in his mind, simply showing you being a good little thing for him. Why have free will when you can be loved and adored? Such an exchange, he's really giving you much more than it's worth. *WINK*

The only reason he might not do the leash business in public is because it's not necessarily convenient. If he's doing anything other than showing you off, it'll be collar only. It'll be highly visible, a light color and perhaps even a bell! Just so no one misses it.

If anyone were to say anything, he just Looks at them. Smiling. Until they back down. He doesn't have to explain anything to them. To anyone, especially the red queen! Hm? What was he saying? Ah, yes, his partner does look wonderful today.

"Say 'Thank you', Alice."

[headstrongblake]

a possessive kiss in front of a jealous third party . / o & trin in front of grant????? bwahaha / @thewholecrew

by the time the last bell rings and the rowdy crowd around octavia begins cheering for her win in the ring, all she can hear is a distinct murmur in her ear. the world around her fading away as her eyes cast over the crowd, a smile plastered on her face highlighting the split in her lip despite the pain that radiates from the blows she failed to block. later, she'd work on that with rev. be better prepared. once she's ushered out of the ring and her opponent finally peels themself off the floor, octavia smirked as she passed rev, "knock 'em dead!" she called excitedly as they went into the ring for their fight of the evening.

with a towel draped around her shoulders, octavia pressed the corner of it to her mouth, wiping away some of the blood as she scanned for trinity in the crowd. but before she spots the beautiful blonde, her eyes skirt over nick, tall and over towering even in this crowd, but they linger on his guest of the evening. she'd expected grant and nick to spend more time together, especially after the three of them had all been forced together in nick's time of need. but she hadn't exactly expected to see either of them out tonight, especially here at the club's fights.

thankfully, the buzz and adrenaline of her fight keep her so high that seeing grant in her space doesn't knock her off balance or ruin her mood. she's just won a fight. spent the last twenty minutes dancing around a ring, clearing her head of every damn thought that even as nick approaches her, grant trailing behind him, she simply grins up at her brother. "you enjoy the show?" she asks, wiggling her brows before a short grimace scrunched her features, feeling her opponents hit to her temple earlier.

nick shook his head with a proud smirk, happy to be outta the goddamn house doing somethin' half way normal and to witness octavia's swift and skilled movements? yeah, he sure as hell enjoyed the show. it's a little odd seeing her on the receiving end of one of these fight nights, but damn, she sure handled herself. quickly, he bent to embrace her in a hug, a protectiveness creeping up in his chest as they connected. but he kept it to himself. after all, she's done more for him lately. "that was fuckin' killer, o... i knew you and rev had been going at it hard, but that..." nick shook his head again as he stepped back, looking over at grant in amazement, "you're fuckin' good, o, you really are."

octavia beamed all the more brighter at nick's compliment, offering him a nonchalant thank you despite how much pride she felt glowing inside of her. this, like her own enterprise, was all her own, and it felt incredible to bask in that. "well, thanks for showing up...the both of you," octavia offered, eyes flickering up to grant. as her eyes met his though, there was that same stupid tightness in her chest that grew since nick's home. "club needs the support you know," she added, quickly distancing herself from their show of support when nick chimed in, offering to buy her a celebratory drink. "c'mon, you killed it, lemme buy you one.."

"oh...i..." just as octavia was about to decline to explain that she was actually here with someone and had plans for her evening, she felt trinity's arm slip around her waist, sliding in as she made her presence known. "there you are," emerald hues quickly moved to trinity as she congratulated her on her big win before lips crashed against hers. there was a sting of pain with trinity's possessive kiss, but octavia quickly accepted the show of affection. she could tell, despite trin's need to have a few encouraging drinks before any of octavia's fights, that trinity secretly enjoyed seeing her fight this way. enjoyed when she emerged victorious. but instead of a heated, deep kiss, octavia cut the kiss short. an uneasy feeling prickling along her skin at the slow realization that amid trinity's passionate tequila flavoured kiss, grant was still standing right there. once upon a time, that notion wouldn't have bothered her; all a part of a game. but that was way back then. now...it felt wrong.

instead of indulging longer, octavia's hand slipped to the small of trinity's back before she politely nodded to the boys. " thanks again, i've got to get cleaned up," she said." another time, nick." she promised, turning with trinity as the two moved away from the guys, heading toward the locker rooms to change.

[chaos0pikachu]

I figure, I want attention today why not participate in wip wednesday since my ass is spending so much damn time on this fic anyway.

Boston, post-series, fix it (sorta? I'm not really trying to fix the series so much as like give shit nuance, boston some growth and expand upon the established universe and also have Boston fuck chars from kp and lita and boeing), currently at like 20K words (fuckin hell why me), shoutouts to the discord for loving me right and loving my salt more, anyways:

PART ONE - NEVER FELT SO ALONE

When Boston boards the plane to New York, it feels like failure rather than triumph. The ticket in his hand feels like a shackle on his wrist, cold and rusted. He can feel more than see the shuffle of other people around him but they feel too real, and he, the unwelcomed spector floating alongside them. He used to feel so alive, but standing in the line for America, for New York, the customer service smiles of the flight attendants, the soft scruff of shoes against the pilled carpet of the airport, Boston has never felt less real. 

Mew’s words ring in his head like the sound only a cracked bell can make; an echo that’s deep and aching. Running away Mew had said, accusation and pity in his eyes. Sitting so high above him Mew stood proudly, back straight and assured. While Boston was slumped, weighted down by the growing feeling of failure. In the other room was flourishment, the existence of brilliance and hope. In this dim kitchen, with nothing but memories and tile, there existed only a one-sided hug that meant everything to one party and nothing to the other. 

Running away implies some active choice on his part, but Boston has never felt less active or in control in his life before. Instead he feels untethered; floating whilst clinging to a piece of driftwood as the ocean carries him to the next shoreline. Boston clutches that piece, the only thing keeping him afloat, so tight he doesn’t even mind the splinters piercing through the softness of his skin. He simply floats there, carried away, the sea salt drying out his skin as the lighthouse that was home blinks away. 

Before - before Top, before Nick, before Atom, before New Years, before - New York had felt so promising. New city, bright lights like described in the English songs he and Ray would listen to together sharing an earbud each. Leaning on each other's shoulders, the warmth of their skin comforting between them. 

Nights like that were some of Boston’s favorites with Ray; where his breath didn’t hold the whiff of whiskey, where Ray’s mind wasn’t filled up with thoughts of Mew, where the barbs traded back and forth didn’t feel like spikes meant to hurt, to bleed the other. 

There was no Ray today to lean on, standing in the shuffling line of his flight. No Cheum either, though she said all was forgiven between them. Boston didn’t expect Mew, and without Ray obviously there would be no Sand - they had never been close, him and Sand, but Boston always felt the others neutral distaste for him. With the way Boston treated Nick, the way Nick felt treated by Boston, he can almost understand why. Boston didn’t even spare a thought towards Top showing up, the idea of them even being allowed to stand next to each other in the same room at New Year’s was something shocking to Boston given Mew’s reaction to them at Halloween merely sitting next to each other. Though, Boston shouldn’t be mad, he’s earned that ire after all. 

Nick not being here, well, Boston isn’t surprised by his absence, so much that he’s surprised by how much it still hurts.

[helldustedstories]

Wrong place, wrong time is the story of his fucking life. He hadn't even meant to be at this particular coffee shop - he'd simply had to divert when his usual spot was closed for renovations. ( that he hadn't even been the cause of, thank you very much ! ) And he wasn't even on the clock when he'd caught sight of the target on his bounty list - what a moron, chilling in Pride in broad fuckin' daylight - and he couldn't let the opportunity go to waste.

Especially when the fucker caught sight of him and tried to dip by taking a hostage.

He'd been slippery this last week, but not particularly smart or skilled. So it'd taken, what, about a minute or two to get him off the guy and knock him stupid with the butt of his pistol so he could cart him down to the mostly derelict station. ( but, hey, they still paid for the worst criminals - even in hell, you gotta make do. not as much as the gangs, but Blitz took what he could get. ) In fact, he'd just been wondering if he had enough time to get his iced coffee and then haul the guy in when he'd heard a polite throat clearing and a tap on his arm.

The once-hostage, a shorter, older imp sharply dressed with a neat little mustache, had gotten his attention - and that's how Blitz found himself face to mirror with some hotshot Goetia royalty. Something was ringing bells in the back of his mind, but he was more distracted by the conversation that unfurled - the rather one-sided conversation.

❝ I am hiring your services. ❞ Of course, it's not may I or can I or even I want to - just the assumption that sets Blitz's hackles raising.

❝ I'm not on a fuckin' job interview - ❞

❝ Please cease the back and forth. My offer is good - a steady salary at ... at least twice whatever your rate is now, room and board, meals covered. ❞

Blitz blinked at the mirrored surface, one brow raised. Huh. He'd crossed his arms, flintlock still in one hand. ❝ That's a statement. Not an offer. ❞

❝ Actually, it's an excellent offer. Steady employment that carries prestige and enough money to sustain yourself using your particular skill set. ❞

❝ And if I say no ? ❞

❝ So be it - but I'm not ... fond of those who waste my time. ❞

Of course, Blitz had heard the edge of a threat inherent in the reply - and, fuck if he isn't desperate. He wonders bitterly if this rich fuck knows it - if he can smell it on him or something. So that's how he finds himself coffee-less, dumping the poor fuck he'd captured in some sleek black car to hopefully be taken to the station, and himself in a different even sleeker car pulling up to the back of some fancy ass mansion. - Still, there's no mistaking the discreet entrance as something designated for the day to day shit - servants, construction, whatever is needed.

Maybe - maybe he'll just say no when the guy he's supposed to be guarding ( would it have made a difference if he said he didn't do bodyguard shit ? probably not ) shows up. Blitz can manage fine on his own - he's been doing it long enough. So he sits on some weirdly fancy bench in some back hall, wondering why the place looks so strangely familiar, when he finally hears someone approach.

❝ Okay, ❞ he says, eyes closed and immediately standing before the other can get a word out. ❝ I dunno what you heard from your old man, but I'm not a - ❞ And that's about when he stops dead.

Because it's been - years, at this point, and they're both so much older, but fuck if he doesn't recognize Stolas - prince of the Ars Goetia - the second he meets his gaze.

Well, shit.

@madefate

As prince of the Ars Goetia, Stolas is, unfortunately, no stranger to receiving threats on his life. People think that he's an easier target than his father, that they can use him to get what they want out of Paimon. And while most of the threats had been empty words, there had actually been an attempt to carry out those threats. Stolas had managed to get away unscathed, but it had apparently been enough of a credible danger that his father had told him he wasn't to leave the palace until they could secure protection for him, an idea that made him scoff.

He knew full well that it wasn't him that Paimon was worried about; it was what would happen to the family name if someone were actually able to carry out their plans. Stolas had already dealt with essentially being under house arrest not that long ago, and the fact that it was happening again made him want to scream.

Still…., he couldn't exactly go against his father's wishes, not when he had Octavia to think of. If he did what Paimon wanted, then he would be allowed to raise his daughter, not butlers or nannies the way he'd been raised. Stolas knew that it was going to be more work, that he was going to be exhausted, but he didn't care. Octavia deserved better than to be shoved off to servants who were paid to care for her. And if a little bit of house arrest kept any arranged marriages off the table…., well, Stolas would never set foot out of the palace again.

He hoped it wouldn't come to that, but he was trying to be the dutiful son that his father expected. It was all he could really do to stay on Paimon's good side. Stolas knew his father didn't care for him, and for the most part, he had come to terms with that.

So when Reginald (who he had called Mr. Butler when he was younger and didn't know his name, hadn't thought to ask) brings his father's mirror to Stolas' office, he's admittedly surprised. He had simply assumed he was going to be confined to the palace once more.

"Of course not," Paimon responds when Stolas voices his thoughts. "You're of-age and fulfilling the duties of your office. It would be far too bothersome to restrict you to the palace now."

Stolas doesn't say anything about the irony in that statement, considering his last stint of being locked up; he inclines his head, and lets his father continue.

"I've secured a bodyguard for you, one who should be able to take care of any …. further ugliness with this assassination business," Paimon intones, and it's all Stolas can do to keep paying attention. His father wasn't here, of course, which meant he had to focus on the mirror Reginald was holding even now.

But before Stolas can say anything else, can ask any questions he might have, his father's face is gone, the way it always was. It seems that Stolas is on his own to find and introduce himself to the person who'd be watching him no matter where he goes. Oh joy.

He takes a moment to straighten his clothes, to make sure he looks presentable before heading to the back hall where Reginald said his new bodyguard had been instructed to wait. Might as well get this over with. Most people who met Stolas didn't care for him, and he had very few doubts that someone hired to protect him would likely feel the same way as most everyone else did. Stolas just hoped it wouldn't get in the way of whoever it was doing his job. But since his father had been the one who had hired them…, that meant that Stolas would have very little say over much of anything in regards to his own safety.

With a sigh, he squares his shoulders, holding himself as upright as possible as he makes his way down the hall. He can see someone waiting at the end of it, so he's in the right place.

But as Stolas approaches, as he's close enough to see the person his father has hired, he can't help but stare for a moment. Even though it's been years, and even though he looks different, Stolas would know that face anywhere.

He only has a moment to inhale sharply before the man who had been his first friend is on his feet, speaking without looking at Stolas at all. But it's only a few seconds before he opens his eyes again and stops speaking, his words dying when he sees Stolas.

The prince offers him a bright smile, more pleased and surprised to see him than he could ever fully convey.

"Blitzo?" he asks, his voice hopeful, delighted. "Are you the one my father hired to be my bodyguard?" And for the first time in a long time, Stolas' smile is genuine. Because if that was the case, this whole thing might not be so bad after all.

[gold-wolf-soldier13]

So I’m watching Friendly Space Ninja’s video on the Originals cause I never watched it but my mom and sister swear by it and in the last hour he mentions that he thinking literally anybody could play Elena Gilbert, that it didn’t have to be Nina Dobrev and I 100% agree!! but not for most of the reasons most fans would.

So I started reading the original Vampire Diaries books back in like, the late 2000’s/early 2010’s so look I think I’ve got skin in the game here even if it’s been a minutes since I read them and I have never watch past the pilot episode of the tv show honestly because of Nina Dobrev

Like no hate to her she gets enough of it honestly but when people started talking about The Vampire Diaries as a tv series, she was the last person I would have picked simply because, well honestly she wasn’t fucking blonde.

And like I get it, “Gold that’s so shallow wtf” but Eleana Gilbert is a Very Special Character to me and I could have gotten over Elena not being Blonde™️ if they didn’t, seconds later introduce Jeremy and Not Aunt Judith I literally don’t remember her name on the show whoops and that shit took me out.

Aunt Judith and Margaret while never heavily involved in Elena’s supernatural struggles were a very integral part of her character, like fuckin spoilers for a book over 20 years old but keeping Margaret safe is one of Elena’s first interactions with Damon!!! he threatens her baby sister and she gives into him, letting him drink her blood against her will to keep him from doing anything to Margaret.

Elena is a bitch, she is kinda selfish and shallow- she’s a teenager!! she’s kinda supposed to be! She’s Queen Bee of Robert E. Lee High School and she didn’t get there by being fucking nice but she was never actively malicious- just a teenage girl who was used to getting everything she wanted because people just liked her and the showrunners for the tv show were fucking cowards

Because the tv show came out after Twilight even though the source material was written well before, TVD had to be like Twilight and that meant there was a love triangle and over the top dramatics because that’s just what the genre was at the time. Now I’m not saying that the book series didn’t have a love triangle but it just felt different in the book cause you knew from jump that it was always going to be Elena/Stefan, there was no way in hell that she was gonna end up with Damon and everyone knew that.

Which is what made the beginning of book 3 (I think I can’t remember, I owned the omnibus versions and I’m at work rn and can’t fact check myself) so shocking and actually made me ship Elena and Damon for a while. Elena had just died, run off the bridge that had killed her parents something the tv show actually gets right but she survives cause she and Damon had shared blood very recently and when she wakes up as a vampire, she has no memory of anyone besides Damon and for that brief moment Elena was honestly That Bitch™️ until she got her memories back and stopped being a bit of a menace

But even after that she handled her transformation really maturely from what I remember and from what I know of the show, that doesn’t happen and it’s a huge disservice to Elena as a character and Nina Dobrev as an actress because she was handicapped from the beginning by the showrunners!!

The writers purposefully chose to make Elena this timid, wallflower, whiney, “girl-next-door” type of character then didn’t understand why no one liked her as the main character and gave all of Elena’s best traits and story beats to Caroline. They kneecapped Elena from the start, designed her into a corner then floundered when their choices came back to bite them.

Elena Gilbert is the driving force behind the plot of The Vampire Diaries, and it’s such a shame the people in charge didn’t understand that because the show could have been so much better if they’d just embraced the material they had instead of trying to be Twilight and making her another version of Bella Swan.

[mxngldmxdnsss]

Hii :), can you write for Jason carver crushing on someone in hellfire?

lovers rock - jason carver

kind of a drabble/headcanon

cw! none!

no warnings : proceed!

Jason didn’t know when it all started. Maybe it was one of your stupid cult tricks, tricking his mind and heart into wanting you. He couldn’t bring himself to admit he found you so entrancing.

Jason found himself gazing at you anytime you and your friends ran into his. But he’d just get over it, is what he often told himself. Even after a semester of such foolery, he believed that it wasn’t a serious admiration he had for you.

But as if he was being punished for pushing away his feelings, he was paired with you for a project. Jason thought he was going to pass out, he looked your way and found your loook of disdain. He should’ve been upset but any attention from you made his heart flutter.

Jason figured this was his chance to finally try and make you his, so once the bell rang, he took off after you. He had to make at least a little bit of a good impression right?

There you were packing your things, ready to go home and work on your half of the project and simply let Jason have all of the credit. But once you closed your locker, you were met with the green and white letterman.

“What do you want?” You sneered at him and Jason swallowed, what was he all nervous for? He was never this soft before with asking whoever he liked out. But maybe it was because you were different.

You didn’t bat your eyelashes at him and giggle every time he looked at you. Maybe that was why. Or maybe it was because the both of you seemingly weren’t meant to be together in societies views.

But hell if that didn’t make him want you more. “Er, we can finish the project at my house if you’d like?” Jason smiled, it wasn’t ideal but he still, asked you somewhere? “I figured we’d do it separately but okay, ‘slong as it doesn’t take forever”

Jason was quick to offer you a ride in his car, feeding his pride by trying to show you that he wasn’t an asshole. To you..of course.

He even offered to buy you some food at a small burger place. You were weirded out to say the least, declining everything and telling him to get home so you could do the project.

It was awkward at first, sitting at Jason’s desk going through the books given to you to get your part of the poster done. But it was hard when you felt like Jason was constantly staring at you.

“Can you stop burning holes into my side weirdo?” Jason swallowed, turning back to his book, completely unfocused. “Sorry..”

You scoffed, before rolling your eyes and slamming the book down on the desk. Jason turned to you as you huffed, staring him down as he tried to figure out why you did that. “You’re being fuckin weird Carver, I oughta start calling you a freak instead.”

Jason didn’t know what to say, he’d already fucked with his chance to play it cool and make an impression on you. You weren’t dumb, you knew he was holding back on saying something but you didn’t know what it was, and it pissed you off. He sure did know how to run his mouth at school but now he acted like he didn’t know compliment from insult.

“I’m leaving, you can finish your half and I’ll do mine, I’m not gonna put up with this bullshit.” You shoved your books and pencils back into your bag, confused as you were, you weren’t gonna stick around and have to put up with Jason’s inability to form a sentence around you.

And still, Jason stayed quiet, even after you stormed out of his damn mansion of a house. He didn’t bother trying to say anything to you afterwards, he’d blown his chance, why fuck things up anymore.

Then came the day of the project, he was nervous, the whole week he kept his distance, he didn’t bother your group, or join in on his teammates teasing. So how the fuck was he going to be able to compose himself in front of the class.

And surprisingly it went smoothly, even when Jason brushed your hand for a split second, he remained calm. But he couldn’t control himself, he chased after you right as the bell rang, if he was gonna say something he figured he’d do it now.

“Y/N, I uh.. wanted to thank you for doing your part of the project.” Jason have you an uneasy smile, damning himself for not saying what he really meant to say. But he figured it’d be enough, not that he could see the anger spreading through your expression. “Excuse me? I did my part of the project because I was supposed to, figures you would think that I’m nothing but a fuck up who deserves applause for doing their work. I’m not a child.”

As if that wasn’t enough, you shoved Jason, the need to communicate wasn’t needed anymore, so you didn’t understand why he kept bothering you, wasn’t teasing you for being a ‘freak’ enough? You were seething, you wanted to wipe that dumb smile off of his face. But again, Jason just couldn’t back down, he would be able to live with you not recuperating his feelings but he wouldn’t be able to live down you hating him for miscommunication.

“No that’s not what I meant Y/N.” Jason looked around, before pulling you into an empty classroom. “I meant.. I enjoyed your company, I just, I..” You crossed your arms, huffing as Jason combed his fingers through his hair. He looked so dumb, you thought, nothing but a stupid, privileged, pretty face.

“I like you Y/N.. a lot, I understand if you don’t see it that way we can be friends if you’d like but I just don’t want to wait until it’s too late to tell you how I feel.” Jason smiled at you, it seemed genuine, he even had his hand over his heart. But you didn’t understand, what kind of sick joke was this, did he think you were another one of those stupid cheerleaders waiting for him to look their way as they dreamed about him being their boyfriend?

“Oh my god, you really are just another fucking freak, going around and setting up jokes, and you think my friends and I are the weirdos.” You attempted to shove Jason out of the way. But he stood strong, he didn’t understand. What did you mean? He’d never play a joke on you.

And it made him angry that you thought that his feelings were some prank. “What? No Y/N I’m serious.” Jason frowned, usually things like this didn’t go this way. But then again he was used to people confessing their love for him, not the other way around.

You stepped back confused and uncertain, not sure if it was from the shit you just heard or from something else. “Seriously Carver, a jock and a freak. As of you couldn’t make our lives worse. People like us aren’t meant to be together so what kind of plan are you gonna conjure up to keep the damn school off our backs huh?”

Jason knew what you meant, everyone would hate you more and he wouldn’t face any problems. But why would he let their filthy opinions keep him from you. For the first time in his life he got to make a decision in his life that wasn’t about a white picket fence suburban life. And hell if he didn’t want it more than what his parents and friends wanted for him.

“I know, but I’ll do whatever I can to show everyone that I’m not gonna live the life they want for me. I promise, I don’t understand why either but whatever we may or may not have, I’ll be happy with it as long as you’re happy either way.” He felt like his chest was gonna cave him, never in his life had he felt this way, about something or someone. His parents had expected him to date the cheer captain, have two and a half kids and a boring marriage and job.

But what he felt for you was real, unlike his life, your life was full of what you wanted, you didn’t care about what others thought, you were happy, you had friends who’s relationship with you was solid. Not some flimsy teammate friendship built on the betterment of a game. And he just hoped he could be apart of your life, be real to you as you were to him.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to kiss him or punch him. So you let Jason scoop you into his arms and hug you so tight you thought your ribs would break.

“I’ll make sure no one says anything and you won’t be a secret I swear. You deserve to have people kiss your ass after this.”

You giggled, returning Jason’s hug as you listened to him chuckle into your shoulder. After everything you had to endure these past years, yeah, you deserved to finally have an upper hand over all those assholes.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to say that to you.” Jason mumbled into your jacket. “Mm, finally feels good to for me to finally be your boyfriend.” You stifled a laugh.

“Hey now blondie, how about you treat me to a date first before we get to special titles huh?” You pulled away, seeing Jason return your teasing grin.

“How about that burger place from before?” You slung your bag over your arm before ushering Jason out of the door. “You sure know how to plan dates, Jason.”

He hummed, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you two ignored the dumb open mouthed stares from your peers.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

warnings: sexual harassment, creepy guys being creepy (don’t worry—Daryl to the rescue) reader pronouns: she/her You were completely drenched in sweat and probably dusted with soil nearly from head to toe as you made your way back up to the prison. You were looking forward to taking a cold shower and cooling off in your bunk after a long afternoon working in the garden with Rick and Hershel. You caught sight of Daryl standing with Carol in the outdoor cooking area and immediately felt a flush of heat to your face which didn’t have to do with the scorching afternoon sun. You were lost in your thoughts for a moment, distracted by his broad shoulders and strong arms, the tapering of his back toward his hips, when someone called your name. Two of the guys about your age who had come in from Woodbury were waving and they were already trotting over to you. Your gait stalled and you waited to see what they wanted.  “Hey. How’s it going?” the first one asked you, looking you up and down not subtly at all. You did your best to ignore it. “Fine. Hot,” you said, wiping your forehead with your forearm in a fast sweeping motion. “You don’t say,” the second guy laughed, also eyeing you in a way that made you uncomfortable. It wasn’t flattering. It was disconcerting. It made you feel like an object he was assessing. “What’s up?” you asked, eager to take care of whatever they needed so you could get the hell out of there. “Settle a bet for us,” one of them said, a wide smirk on his face. “We, uhh—we were talking about positions.” You still didn’t catch on and simply furrowed your brow at him, waiting for him to continue. “I think you look like the doggy style type but he thinks you’re more of a reverse cowgirl. Which is it?”  You were so taken aback at his bluntness that for a moment you just stood there, frozen, blinking with wide eyes. Then your body seemed to catch up and flushed your face with heat. You felt disgusted and humiliated, like your only purpose for existing was for them to look at and fuck. You hardly knew these assholes. What the fuck?! Where the hell did they get the audacity to walk up to anyone and talk to them like that? You felt sick. And you felt scared. If they felt okay saying that to you, what would they feel okay doing? But you couldn’t seem to get any words out for a long moment.  “Come on,” laughed the second guy. “It’s just a simple question. We’ve got lunch for the next few days riding on this,” he said jovially.  Your voice finally came back. “What the hell is wrong with you?” At least you’d managed something, though it came out quieter and less derisive than you’d hoped. You turned away hurriedly and simply tried to escape, a cold slimy feeling permeating your skin. But a hand on your upper arm stopped you abruptly and you spun around in shock. 

“Hey—come on... it’s just a bet! It’s not a big deal!” He was laughing again. His hand was still gripping your arm. You were just staring at it. You desperately wanted to get it off of you but your body, though revolted and urgently telling you to punch him in the face, to kick, to yell, anything, was completely locked up. “Relax. We can tell you aren’t some pure little prude. Just settle the bet. Or better yet, you can show both of us later... ” he said with a smirk. There was something alarming in his eyes, some hunger or violence that set alarm bells ringing in your head. You felt bile rising up in your throat and then all of a sudden Daryl was right there beside you. You hadn’t even heard him coming over the throb of your heart in your ears.  “Hey! Get yer fuckin’ hand off her!” he roared, stepping in front of you, shielding you from the two guys with his body. “What the fuck do ya think yer doin’?!” he growled, stepping up right into the guy’s face. They immediately seemed to wilt and sputter beneath his glare and stepped back, proverbial tails between their legs, trying to come up with some explanation that would save them from his anger. But nothing would satisfy Daryl. As they tried to come up with some lame excuse, attempting to draw him in to what they believed as misogynistic assholes was “guy talk”, he’d heard more than enough. He squared his hips and roundly swung with a fist and slammed it into the jaw of the guy who had grabbed your arm. One glance at your body language and expression from across the courtyard had told Daryl all he needed to know. The guy crumpled like a pulled weed in the hot sun, hand pressed to his face. Daryl stepped forward again, still shielding you behind him. “If I ever see ya lay another goddamn fuckin’ finger on her, Hell—if I see ya lookin’ at her, talkin’ to her, talkin’ about her, comin’ near her, I’m gonna beat ya both into the fuckin’ ground and feed ya to the walkers at the fence. Got it?” Everyone knew Daryl was a warrior, the best there was, and you could see on their faces that they completely believed him. They rushed off like scolded children. Daryl quickly turned to face you and his demeanor changed wholly, softened and concerned. “Are ya okay?” he asked urgently. He wanted to clasp your face, but he didn’t dare to. You gulped and nodded, rubbing at the red spot on your arm that clearly showed where the guy had grabbed you. Daryl’s brow furrowed more deeply and another flame of rage wicked upwards. “Are ya sure? Ya ain’t hurt? That fucker grabbed ya—I—” He let out another low growl. “I shoulda gotten over here sooner...” You shook your head. “No. No, I’m okay. Thank you,” you said. “I—I don’t know what happened. I just froze. I couldn’t—I was just so shocked by what they said...I—” you broke off, unable to verbalize why you hadn’t been able to shove the guy off you yourself, or better yet, kick him in the balls. “Nah. Tha’s... totally understandable. Those guys are fuckin’ creeps.” He was studying you with concern. “Lemme walk ya in,” he said. “C’mon. Let’s get ya outta this sun.” You fell into stride beside him and he kept glancing over at you the whole way to the cell block, sensing that you were still upset and wanting to reassure you. “Hey—why dun ya grab yer stuff and get cleaned up in the shower room? I’ll—I’ll watch out for those two. Make sure they dun come around,” he trailed off. He was still worried. And he wanted more than anything for you to be and feel safe and secure. Nothing was fucking happening to you while he was around. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck nervously. “And then tonight—if ya want, ya can stay in my cell. Take the top bunk. Just so, ya know—so ya feel safe. And I’ll talk to Rick about them two tomorrow.” Your muscles seemed to loosen their grip on your bones and you felt a wash of relief. “Daryl. What the hell would I do without you?” you asked him. You hurriedly leaned in, touching his arm gently to steady yourself, and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.” He could see on your face how much that meant to you and felt another swell of protectiveness and a rare rush of pride. “You’re the best. Thank you.” His ears burned with a blush and he cleared his throat nervously. “S’nothin’. C’mon... go ahead and get cleaned up. I’ll be right out here...”